Nov 21, 2007 5:01am
Re: THEORY OF THE ARROWS
I ain't your brother - that's exactly what 2 African-American teenage boys said to me, a second before shooting me in the back, on the corner at Ralston St. at the South end of 19th Avenue in mid-'72.
Just a flesh wound, the bullet exited without hitting anything vital.
But I learned my lesson:
don't tell armed assailants while they're trying to rob you, that they're your brothers.
Particularly if the word brother means something altogether different inside a society which may well exclude an outsider, regardless of calling them brothers.
The youth with the gun hit me in the head with the butt, and said "I ain't your brother" -
his quick response to my premptorily, en flagrante, calling them "my brothers".
My friend ran, and they shot at him but missed.
I got stung, hit by a 22 slug through my lower back.
I did turn sideways just to time to make myself a narrower target while standing at point-blank range.
Immediately after being shot once I pretended to die which had the hoped-for effect, of scaring them into running away instead of plugging me a few more times.
I was 18 at the time, and it was 1972.
The shooter and accomplice were not arrested or caught for that crime.
I say "that crime" because I can imagine what happened, at a later time to (I don't actually know what fate held in store for) my brothers.
cream puff piece, man
This post was modified by cream-puff-war on 2007-11-21 13:01:28 Attachment: P1010121.JPG